The Chronicles of Narnia: Search for Adam's Blood
by crimsonwingedkitten
Summary: High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise?  full summary inside  PeterxOC, EdmundxOC
1. Prologue

**Full Summary:**

High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise? His younger brother has gone missing and a cold hand of fear and worry close around his heart. His sisters are afraid for him, and there is nothing they can do until they find him, if they find him that is.

Guided by a curious elf girl, he finds clues that only leave more questions unanswered. He is even more mystified when he finds himself falling for her, yearning to grow closer to her.

But the High King might not be so distracted, if he knew what Dark Magic was at use, and the danger that was coming…

PeterxOC EdmundxOC

**_This is a story that is written as a collaboration with my friend, Jess :)_**

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue written by Jess:<strong>

Prologue

A slow monotonous guttural chant could be heard in the shrouded darkness of the night. All around a cracked stone table, creatures of many different kinds stood in unison, swaying to the rhythmic incantation. An Ancient, dark magic, could be felt it all around them, lurking in the shadows that twisted and writhed in time with their sombre mantra.

Flames licked greedily at the oxygen from their oil soaked torches, flaring occasionally in time with the recitation of the creatures, as an array of hooves, paws, stumpy feet and talons stomped the cold pavement in time. The trees in the forest around them shifted uneasily; they could feel it too; the darkness gliding between their thick tree trunks, creeping ever closer.

In an ear-splitting crescendo, the creatures finished, and as they struck the last discorded note, with their guttural voices, and all sound ceased. The air was thick with intensity as the tune still echoed in their minds, waiting with solemn expectation. Suddenly, all the torches around the gathering were blown out, by a vicious howling wind that swirled around them.

In the screaming silence that followed, one creature stepped forward, from between a large group of Harpies. This creature was not like the others, and had not been there before at the beginning of the ceremony, until now. Its face and body was concealed by a long sweeping black cloak, and only its ugly thick curved beak showed through the cowl of its hood.

It slowly ascended the broken steps and stood on the stone table, a huge crack splitting it in two, both halves lying on an odd angle. An inscription of deep magic was engraved around the edges of the table, the same deep magic in which the creature was born.

The creature paused, accessing each and every beast present. Nearly all of the White Witch's Army had been obliterated five years ago in the Battle of Beruna. Now, the few that had survived were back, after years of nurturing their anger and hatred. Over thirty different species of creatures had served under the White Witch, each kind pledging their allegiance. But tonight, of the thirty that had originally been by the White Witch's side – only eleven different species remained, still loyal, still faithful. Their eyes gleamed unanimously with a furious fire for vengeance.

In the deathly silence that hung around the clearing, the ancient creature spoke, a dry throaty voice poisoning the air. "I know what you want," it rasped. "But I can only give you half of what you want." With these words, a decaying, hand reached into the endless folds of dark fabric.

Every beasts' eye was on the creature, each waiting with bated breath, even the Goblins, who were normally restless and fidgety at such gatherings were silent.

Then the gnarled hand drew back, clutched between its bony fingers was a long slender ice-like wand; the very one that their queen possessed.

"That's only half!" snapped one Boggle, its seedy eyes looking annoyed from behind a swollen swine-like snout. "Where's the other half?"

Many of the other Boggles grunted in agreement, as did a few Imps. One particular Goblin sneered at them, stepping apart from his kind, closer to the centre so that he could address the ones in doubt.

"Fools," he hissed through his yellow-stained, jagged teeth. "That is all we need. That is what will help us to start the rebellion!"

The creatures surrounding him all roared in enthusiasm. They all recognised him as the one who had rallied them all there tonight. He was the one who would lead them through to victory.

The ancient creature handed him the broken half of the wand and the Goblin admired it with silent awe. Amidst the shrieks of the Giant Bats and Ghouls as they celebrated with the roaring Ogres and Incubuses, the Goblin could hear the dark creatures words clearly as he gave him the wand.

"Riadyn, remember, this is only half of what you need," it croaked hoarsely. "The other half, is blood."

Riadyn nodded. He had done his research, and he knew exactly what he needed. The bloodbath in the war that was coming, was one he was looking forward to. His eyes glistened with bloodlust. He looked up, and noticed that the creature had abruptly vanished, but the sinister presence could still be felt nearby.

He turned to his followers. "Four children think they can just march in here and claim the throne," he spat with loathing. The impudent children had turned his world, along with every beast present, completely upside down. But now, he thought as he grasped the wand firmly in his hand, that was all about to change.

"Let us set everything right again! Let us rid ourselves of those who think they have what it takes to rule and put a real ruler in their place!" he exclaimed to them. "Let us put everything the way it is supposed to be!"

The roar of agreement was almost deafening. Riadyn smiled to himself. He had an army with him that would follow him loyally to fully restore Narnia. And now, with this wand, they were unstoppable.

He nodded to the three he had individually selected before and explained to them his devious plan. "You know what to do."

With those words, the shifty werewolf, the slouching hag, and the impatient gargoyle all melted back into the shadows, to carry out their task.


	2. Chapter One

Full Summary:

High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise? His younger brother has gone missing and a cold hand of fear and worry close around his heart. His sisters are afraid for him, and there is nothing they can do until they find him, if they find him that is.

Guided by a curious elf girl, he finds clues that only leave more questions unanswered. He is even more mystified when he finds himself falling for her, yearning to grow closer to her.

But the High King might not be so distracted, if he knew what Dark Magic was at use, and the danger that was coming…

PeterxOC EdmundxOC

This is a story that is written as a collaboration with my friend, Jess :)

* * *

><p>Chapter written by me.<p>

**Chapter One**

"Come on, Ed!" Lucy called, her brown hair flying freely behind her as she pushed her mare faster through the Western Woods. "The Beaver's are expecting us today!"

The sun was hanging high in the light blue sky. Not a cloud hindered the brilliance of its beams as it shone down upon the forest the two siblings rode through. Their horse's hooves created a rhythm on the forest floor, harmonising with the rustle of the leaves and voices of the birds sitting up in the branches. It was late autumn and many of the trees were beginning to lose their leaves, littering the ground in orange, yellow and red. It wouldn't be too long until snow would fall from the sky and coat the ground in a white wintery wonderland.

"It's not like the sun is about to set!" Edmund called back, trying to keep up with his younger sister. "Do you think you can go a little faster, Philip?" He asked his stallion.

Philip looked back at him slightly. "To quieten your sister? Certainly." He replied.

Edmund grinned and lightly kicked his heels inwards, Philip marginally speeding up to take over Lucy on the wide path.

A number of days previous they had received word that the Beaver's had been blessed a new litter of children. Lucy and Edmund had been assigned to go and present the new parents with a gift on behalf of all four royal siblings. The youngest of the siblings left early the day before and into the second day reached the Western Woods – at their current pace they would reach the Beaver's before lunch time.

Without a thought Edmund looked up through the trees where he could see the twin mountains, remembering the first time he'd set eyes upon them. A shudder travelled down his spine at the recollection and he quickly set his attention back to beating Lucy to the Beaver's dam. He looked behind him, just to check that Lucy was still in sight.

Lucy giggled quietly to herself, glad for the shortcut she'd remembered on all the trips she'd made to visit the Beavers or Mr Tumnus. She could see Edmund through the trees, looking for her as he continued to ride. She swerved, taking the final leg of her shortcut, losing sight of Edmund and darting down a path that she hoped no one else knew.

She rode her mare over a rocky ledge, leaping back onto the main path. Lucy glanced back to see Edmund's reaction only to see that he wasn't in sight. She assumed that she had simply outrun him and continued on to the Beaver's dam. Still, there was that seed of concern that had been planted in her mind.

She continued to fidget whilst she was at the Beaver's, though she presented the gift and played with the infant beavers. It was true that Edmund had wandered off before, but this wasn't a time that he would usually leave. Especially because they would have been heading back towards Cair Paravel later that day and Peter had expressed perfectly well that he didn't favour Lucy travelling alone. Not to mention camping in the forest without someone accompanying her.

Nevertheless, Lucy left the Beaver's dam an hour before sunset and set off for home as fast as her horse's hooves could take her. All the while she kept an eye out for her older brother through the trees of the wood. The nagging side of her brain told her not to worry so much about him. It told her that he went off hunting – perhaps he saw the legendary white stag and had no time to call for her before chasing after it.

Lucy continued to fear the worst for Edmund though, when she would return home the next day – but what she feared didn't even begin to cover it.

"He just left you there?" Peter exclaimed, his voice echoing in the hallow hallway. His hurried footsteps as he rushed to find Susan were almost just as loud.

"But Peter, I'm sure he had his reasons for going." Lucy replied in Edmund's defence as she swiftly followed after him. "And besides, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I admire your confidence, Lu." Peter allowed with a slight smile. "But I promised Mum that I would protect you. Letting you go out into any woods alone goes against my word."

Lucy rolled her eyes, keeping on her eldest brother's heels. She smiled and waved to each and every worker they passed. "The Beaver's liked the gift, by the way." She said, trying to change the subject. "You should think about going to visit them with Susan some time." She suggested.

"I'm sure I will when I can find a spare moment." Peter replied, opening a door and looking into the room. He shut it swiftly shortly after and kept his speedy pace down another hallway. "Where _is_ she?" He muttered, frustration filling every ounce of his aura.

"Perhaps she's in the library." Lucy offered.

Peter instantly pivoted on his heel and stalked back in the opposite direction.

Again, Lucy rolled her eyes and ran to keep up with him. "You know, you don't need to be so angry. And why does finding Susan change the fact that I've returned safely?"

"I need to decide where I can have Edmund drawn and quartered." Peter replied.

"Peter!"

An unmistakable grin crossed Peter's lips. "Don't worry, Lu. I just think that there's something suspicious about this situation. And you know Susan; she'll come up with some kind of logical explanation."

Lucy giggled in agreement.

"High King Peter!" Both the siblings turned as a Faun ran to catch up with them in the hallway. "I have a message for you from the elfin settlement."

"Oh, thank you." Peter replied, taking the letter, but he didn't stop walking.

Shortly after their coronation by Aslan there had been a minor exodus of elfin travellers entering Narnia with the intention of creating a small settlement for them to start over after their own civil war in another land. The elves were so human like that upon first glance the royal siblings had thought that they were human – until they saw their long pointed ears. All were small in stature and average height was about as tall as Peter. Peter gladly allowed the elves to find a place in their kingdom to settle down and had been keeping an eye on them ever since. Their settlement had been established a little over a year after they had arrived in an area outside of the Western Woods near the Great River. Since then they had produced fertile farmlands, homes and were taking very good care of themselves. These days the mayor of that settlement sent letters to Peter to keep him up to date with the developments there.

Peter swung the double doors of the library open, hardly hindering his pace as he looked up and around the pathways propped up above other shelves to reach the books closer to the high ceiling. "Susan!" He called, hoping that the tone in his voice would reach to the eldest of his sisters that something was wrong. Now was not a time for her to hide.

"I'm right here." Peter and Lucy twisted around to see Susan sitting back in a well cushioned armchair with a thick book in her hands. "What is it?" She asked.

"Edmund left Lucy alone in the Western Forest yesterday." Peter explained, walking over to stand in front of her. "Not only am I displeased, but I'm also worried. Edmund knows his duties."

"It's not like he hasn't wandered off like this before." Susan reasoned, her worry instantly dissipating. "I'm sure we'll hear word from him soon and there will be nothing to worry about. As for him leaving Lucy alone I think it's time we trusted Lu to take care of herself from time to time." She added, turning her eyes back upon the words in her book. "She's old enough now, I think."

"You seriously don't think that there's something suspicious about this?" Peter asked.

"I don't think so." Lucy added. "Like Susan said, Edmund has wandered off before."

"Look, we'll wait a few days." Susan offered. "If Ed hasn't returned or we haven't heard any word from him then we can organise for some search parties. But I seriously doubt that it'll be necessary."

Peter sighed. "Well, I suppose. It is a little silly to overreact." He decided.

"I'll say." Lucy muttered with a roll of her eyes.

He turned on her, taking a step towards her. "Sorry, did you say something, Lu?"

"Nothing." Lucy insisted, unable to hide the wide smile that rose upon her face.

"Oh I know you said something to me!" Peter exclaimed, running in her direction.

Lucy squealed and skidded off out of the library with Peter chasing close behind her.

. : . : . : .

Several days passed by and there had been no word from Edmund.

The temperature growing progressively lower as the chill of winter began to settle into the autumn weather, but this was nothing compared to the cold hand clasped around the sibling's throats. Their worry for Edmund had returned only the day before and now Peter was making preparations to look for their lost brother.

"I'm sure it's nothing big." Peter assured Lucy, tightening the saddle on his bay stallion. "I'll find Edmund and bring him home, I promise." He added, kissing the top of her head and then accepted an embrace from Susan and pulled back to say: "I shant be longer than a few days."

"Your Majesties!" A panicked voice called, causing the trio to look up. A Centaur entered the stables, wavy black hair tied back with string. But what caught the sibling's eye was the stallion he was leading along. The stallion was struggling on wobbling legs. The creature was worn, gasping for breath, froth dripping from its lips, fur coated in a thick layer of sweat and a harsh looking rope burn around its neck. To their dismay the saddle it wore was empty.

"Philip!" Lucy cried, running up to her brother's horse to take the reins from the Centaur. "Are you okay?" She asked, petting his nose.

"Where's Edmund?" Susan asked.

Philip looked into Lucy's eyes. His gaze was weak and though he opened his mouth not a word came out before he fell to his knees.

Lucy whipped her head back around to look at Peter as he mounted his horse. "Peter, what are we going to do?" She sobbed, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Oreius." Peter commanded, addressing the Centaur that was helping Philip back to his hooves. "Assemble your troops and arrange as many search parties as you can. Send them to the north, south and west – everywhere. I'm going on ahead to the Western Woods where Edmund was last seen, via the Stone Table. I don't know what this is about, but no one rests until Edmund is found."

Oreius bowed his upper body. "Yes, my King."

"Susan, Lucy." Peter added, looking to his sisters. "If Philip tells you anything send me a message via the trees and be prepared to round up as many volunteers as you can. I'll send word if I need you to start. And please be careful."

Susan and Lucy nodded in reply before he set his stallion into a fierce sprint out of the stables.

For many hours Peter did not rest, pushing his horse faster and faster through the thinly treed woods, all of which were feeling the oncoming winter and had begun to shake off their leafy coats. Cantering over vast fields cleared of any trees at all where the grass rippled and rolled like water from the winds. And also by the various villages that were dotted around the areas close to Cair Paravel – some were multi cultural with many species of Narnians, while others were exclusive to one species only. He doubted that if Edmund had been kidnapped that they would bring him anywhere near the castle, so he saw no reason to slow down until he reached the Rush River. He allowed his stallion time to rest and drink before he progressed on to the sacred Stone Table.

Cracked or not, the table would always symbolise the magic that would always swirl in the very air of Narnia. But most importantly it was the place where Aslan was killed by the White Witch, only to triumph over death and come back to life. Of all places to take a King or Queen of Narnia this was one of them – as much of a long shot as that could be, Peter still wanted to check out the area himself.

As he approached the steps to the shrine he could see that something had happened there. Not a ritual, but a gathering of some sort. His stallion became discomforted, so he left him to graze while he would inspect the area. The scent of smoke hung in the air, but it was days, even weeks old. Burnt sticks and ashes littered the stone shrine platform surround the table which was still resting where it had cracked five years ago.

Peter sighed and turned back towards his horse to find that a female Centaur was standing nearby. She had light golden hair that was tied back in a braid and wore a sleeveless cropped top made from a dark rose pink coloured material. Strapped to one side of her horse body was a long sword, on the other a quiver equipped with bow and arrows.

"Your Majesty." She greeted, bowing her upper body with an arm across her chest. "Oreius sent me in this direction, but I didn't expect to catch up with you." She explained.

Peter nodded in greeting. "What is your name?"

"Aries, Your Majesty."

"Where are you headed now?" Peter asked, jumping onto his steed.

"Further south-west, towards Mount Pike." Aries replied.

"Have you seen anything so far?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty."

"Great. Be careful and keep your eyes open. You're dismissed." Peter informed her.

Aries nodded, bowing again before galloping into the forest. The Centaurs in Oreius' army were as disciplined as they were strong – if he hadn't told her to leave she would have stayed at the stone table for far longer than necessary.

Peter gazed at the sacred Stone Table, wondering what had occurred there before turning the reins of his horse and trotting in the direction of the Western Woods.


	3. Chapter Two

Full Summary:

High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise? His younger brother has gone missing and a cold hand of fear and worry close around his heart. His sisters are afraid for him, and there is nothing they can do until they find him, if they find him that is.

Guided by a curious elf girl, he finds clues that only leave more questions unanswered. He is even more mystified when he finds himself falling for her, yearning to grow closer to her.

But the High King might not be so distracted, if he knew what Dark Magic was at use, and the danger that was coming…

PeterxOC EdmundxOC

This is a story that is written as a collaboration with my friend, Jess :)

Chapter written by Jess.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Two<span>**

Flames flickered as tiny pinpricks in the distance, a small beacon in the darkened night sky. They were almost there. Two travellers carried on, down a weary, long-forgotten path towards their destination, one carrying a large hessian sack slung over their shoulder. The third member of their party had run ahead, to alert the others of their awaited arrival.

The soft continuous sound of water as it washed over the rocks and lapped the shore nearby filled the companionable silence. It had been a long hard day. But there was something unexplainably amiss with the two figures that walked along in the darkness. Perhaps it was the sinister aura that clung to them, the way that they skulked through the thinning trees, two pairs of beady eyes glinting in the ill-lit night.

Long fingers of moonlight streamed through the tall silent trees, reaching through the cold lurking fog that choked the air. No one was around; every beast in Narnia had long ago fallen into their slumber, aside from the night creatures that steered clear of the suspicious pair.

Suddenly a great tearing sound jolted the pair from their sleepy trance-like state. The one who had been carrying the heavy sack stumbled as her load was lightened instantly and they heard a muffled grunt as someone hit the ground hard.

A blood-curdling shriek shattered the tranquil yet tense atmosphere and the stooped creature, who had a long curved nose and chin whipped around, her beady eyes darting to and fro. In her hand the hag clutched the useless hessian cloth. Her cry had galvanised her companion into action.

The Werewolf turned, unlike his companion, whose eyes were hindered by the darkness, his sharp vision picked out their victim almost immediately. With a ferocious roar, he transformed into his wolf form, dark grey fur bursting from the hooded cloak he wore, shredding it in the process.

Their captive was wriggling away as fast as he could. Unfortunately he had freed himself from the bag as they were right on the edge of the forest, the trees were thinner and less dense, and therefore there was no real hiding place. He felt terribly exposed and cringed as the Hag's piercing shriek made his throbbing head spin.

Rough thick blood-crusted ropes bound his wrists and ankles together so tight that they were cutting into his tender flesh even if he stayed perfectly still. It was because of this that his wrists and ankles felt numb. He had also been gagged, preventing him from calling for help as he drifted in and out of consciousness during the day.

Sweat made his dark hair cling to his forehead and it ran into his eyes as he squirmed away, helpless before the bounding snarling wolf, reaching him in seconds. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the searing pain that came with any movement - causing the ropes to ground painfully in his wounds, he twisted back, pulling his knees to his body and as the wolf launched itself at him, he jerked his legs towards it with all the strength he could muster.

The wolf gave a strangled yelp as his feet hit the creature solidly in the chest, knocking it back. Breathing hard, he managed to rip the gag from his mouth, finally having a wider range of motion. He opened his mouth, sucking in a deep breath to call for help, but all that came out from his dry throat was a soundless hoarse cry.

Cursing silently to himself, Edmund tried to drag himself to his feet as the wolf recovered and rounded on him. He had no idea how he had gotten himself in this position, and this was certainly not what he had planned when he was scheming escape plans. In the back of his mind, he prayed that Lucy was alright, being alone and travelling. What if she was next? Did they already have her now?

He had spent most of the time unconscious in the bag, suffocating as the coarse material smothered him. He had eventually planned a simple escape with the only resources available to him. He wasn't sure if it would work, and it took a long while of sawing away at the poorly-made cloth, but his Crown managed to prove effective.

If all else failed, at least he would be able to breathe – that was, if the Werewolf didn't kill him first. The wolf bounded towards him again, salivating excessively from the excitement.

"Stop!" A shrill voice cut stopped the wolf in his tracks.

Agony screamed from Edmund's right forearm as the Hag's long jagged sharp fingernails penetrated the soft skin, and he held his tongue, refusing to let her have the satisfaction of hearing him in pain. She was much shorter than he, and he had only just managed to rise to his feet when she had grabbed him. Now he was slouching to a side, to alleviate the pressure she was putting, digging her filthy nails into his arm.

"We need him alive," her voice was so high-pitched that it made Edmund's head spin once more, and he felt himself lurching to a side as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He was only vaguely aware of the pull of the Hag's nails as it started to slice through his limb, and he managed to catch himself before her nails could do so.

"For now," the Werewolf snickered.

The Hag released him, securely knotting a rope around the bonds on his wrist and handing the stray end to the Werewolf. She was no fool, she knew that the Werewolf was stronger than she physically, and if the prisoner tried anything, it would be futile against her companion.

Then she pulled out a small dagger that glinted dully in the moonlight. She cut through the rope around his ankles carelessly, barely noticing nor concerned in the least as her action had accidentally nicked him.

Edmund held back a relieved sigh, grateful that his ankles were finally free. He suppressed the urge to reach down and nurse his vicious wound, knowing that there would be no way that his captors would allow him to do so.

"You can walk," she spat at him, before turning and leading the way on.

The Werewolf jerked at the lead cruelly, smiling with a sick satisfaction, as though he knew what was coming to Edmund.

. : . : . : .

The sweet smell of hay hung in the air. Early morning rays streamed blissfully through the dusty stall and caressed Philip's muzzle. His nostril's flared and he breathed in deeply. His muscles still ached from his previous expedition and the endless hours of galloping over the terrain.

He struggled to rise to his feet, shaking off the exhaustion that had claimed his body. He shuddered involuntarily as he recalled yesterday's terror. It was about then that he realised just how hungry and thirsty he was.

His warm inquisitive brown eyes searched the stables for any sign of movement, and after calling over a stable boy and requesting an audience with the King and Queens, he helped himself gratefully to the crunchy delicious oats that had been left for him. He slurped his water noisily as he waited for the boy to return and lead him to the Throne room.

Philip had never imagined, that something like this would happen. He felt like he had let everyone down, unable to help protect King Edmund that he should have. The guilt that he carried was even worse than his crazy trip to the beavers and then after discovering Queen Lucy had already left, his bolt back to Cair Paravel.

The boy quickly came running back, but he was not alone. Following swiftly behind him, was both High Queen Susan and Queen Lucy. Both girls hastened forward once they saw Philip. Philip began to bow, but Queen Lucy prevented him, wrapping her gentle arms around his strong neck.

High Queen Susan stood back and smiled warmly at him, although worry clouded her eyes. She wore her long dark silky hair out that morning and rumour had it that she had many men from far and wide had eyes on the elegant and poised woman.

But palace chit-chat was not important at a time like this. Lifting his head, Philip knew that he mustn't delay any longer the terrible news that had been burdening him the past day or two.

And so, with a heavy heart, he told the two Daughters of Eve what he had seen.

. : . : . : .

The hollowed shell of a once magnificent castle lay wasted in the centre of a great lake. A rocky bar led from the shore to the castle from the right. The tall towers loomed ominously overhead and a chill shivered down Edmund's spine. He remembered only too well a time when he had voluntarily stepped through the large fortress doors and passed through the graveyard of stone sculptures.

During the entire walk the rest of the way, the Werewolf tugging unnecessarily on the ropes to make it scrape and rub painfully against his wrists. However, Edmund's mind had been elsewhere and he breathed a sigh of relief; it looked like they didn't have Lucy.

They passed under a large archway that revealed a huge hallway and down the end, up two flights of stairs – Edmund knew the 'Throne Room' was located. The castle looked completely different now that it wasn't covered in a thick layer of ice. Although it was a little worn and run down, probably from a lack of maintenance and care that it used to have some years ago.

As he was led through the hallway and into the Throne Room, Edmund noticed many other creatures whom he recognised used to be a part of the White Witches Army. Other than numerous other Werewolves and Hags, he noticed a few Boggles walking off, carrying in their stumpy arms an assortment of weapons and many Ogres that stood guard at nearly all the entrances to the castle and the main rooms. Incubuses skulked through the shadows between the columns, one in particular spitting in his direction, though it fell short of him.

As they climbed the staircase, he noticed the Harpies and Giant Bats that hung from the high ceiling. All the creatures had stopped what they were doing to stare at him as he passed, something that Edmund didn't find very encouraging in the least.

As he entered the Throne Room, he was surprised by two things. The first was that the Throne Room was the most well-kept and well-restored room in the entire castle. Aside from the ice, everything was perfect, spotlessly clean and a stone throne sat in the place where the ice throne once was. There was even a fluffy white fur draped over the seat and arms of the throne, and Edmund half-expected Jadis herself to appear any moment now.

But then he pushed that thought out of his mind. After all, she was dead.

The second surprise, was the presence of many young females who were scrubbing and cleaning vigorously at the floors of the room. Then he realised, as one young innocent girl stumbled with a cry and dropped the heavy buckets of water she was struggling with, they weren't quite as they seemed. The Ogre closest to her snarled as the buckets crashed to the floor, spilling the soapy contents everywhere, and he raised the black leather whip in his ugly hand, bearing it down on the girl. Viciously slashing into her back.

They were slaves.

Like the others, the girl was dressed in such simple dirty clothes, they could almost be rags. Her desperate cries and pleas for mercy against the relentless beating fell on deaf ears. The other girls pretended not to be aware of what was happening, and a small circle of spectators gathered of many numerous creatures Edmund had seen in the hall, their eyes glittering in anticipation. Even the Werewolf and the Hag who had brought him here stopped to watch.

The Ogre was so generous with the lashing of his whip, that with the first few strokes of the leather, the lines that marked her back were as red as her long hair.

Disgusted and appalled, the young King refused to stand by and watch this sick sport. The Werewolf had relaxed his grip on the rope, and with a simple jerk, Edmund was free. Before the Werewolf or the Hag could react, he ran out and came between the Ogre and the slave girl.

"Stop this!" Edmund knelt down beside the sobbing girl, and rested his reassuring yet bound hands on her shoulder.

A tense silence filled the air, lasting only for a few fleeting moments. A couple of the slave girls paused what they were doing and watched on in quiet astonishment. But that moment was shattered as the Werewolf stepped forward, at the same time as the angry Ogre made a reach for the rope which bound Edmund's hand together.

He wrenched the rope upwards violently, hauling Edmund to his feet and leering right in his face. His breath reeked a foul stench like nothing that he had ever smelled before.

"What have we here?" The Ogre's voice was throaty and his words almost unintelligible.

The Werewolf snickered and circled around until he was standing next to the Ogre. "A nice little offering for our great-"

"What is going on?" demanded an enraged voice. Twisting his head, Edmund tried to see over the Ogre's thick arms to whom the voice belonged to.

A short, oily looking goblin with no hair on his hideous head came into view. Like the Hag, he had a long curved nose, yet his chin was stumpy. He had no eyebrows and he looked rather gnarly, however, he wasn't as short in stature as the Hag.

As the Goblin came into the room, the Ogre released the prisoner, dropping him to the floor with no concern next to the girl. The girl had been trying to slip away unnoticed, back to the others but froze when Edmund fell back next to her.

The Hag who had taken Edmund to the castle with the other two, slinked next to the Goblin. "Nothing of any importance," she assured him, her voice ringing shrilly around the great room. "We have brought him back….alive, just as you asked, Riadyn."

Riadyn sized up Edmund, then dismissed him with a simple wave of his hand. By this time the slave girl had managed to disappear unnoticed, whilst all eyes were on the prisoner in question.

"Take him to his cell."


	4. Chapter Three

Full Summary:

High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise? His younger brother has gone missing and a cold hand of fear and worry close around his heart. His sisters are afraid for him, and there is nothing they can do until they find him, if they find him that is.

Guided by a curious elf girl, he finds clues that only leave more questions unanswered. He is even more mystified when he finds himself falling for her, yearning to grow closer to her.

But the High King might not be so distracted, if he knew what Dark Magic was at use, and the danger that was coming…

PeterxOC EdmundxOC

This is a story that is written as a collaboration with my friend, Jess :)

Chapter written by me.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

After a night of little rest, Peter crossed the Fords of Beruna and through a dense wood, Peter was beginning to feel the effects of his exhaustion. He'd been travelling since early that morning and he also knew that his horse would need some kind of a break soon. When the forest cleared, the trees thinning out to reveal a purposefully made path he sighed with relief. He was coming upon a village. There would be some kind of well he could use and food he could purchase.

Fields soon replaced the trees and Peter tugged back on the reigns to slow his stallion's pace to a trot. He looked over the cleared field he'd come upon, the perimeter outlined by a wooden fence. Inside there were farm animals grazing on the lush green grasses as close to the forest as possible, enjoying the shade. He continued up the path towards the village, only to come upon a young woman drawing water from a well just outside of the farmlands. Peter's spirits lifted greatly at the sight of the well. All day he hadn't seen any sign of drinkable water and it seemed that he'd been blessed for his tiring journey.

The elfin girl looked up, but did not acknowledge him any further as he rode up beside the well and dismounted his stallion. She swiftly set back to pulling the wooden bucket out from the well with the rope and pulley system.

A puff of exhausted breath left his lungs as he leaned as regally as possible against the side of the round well, waiting patiently for her to vacate the use of the well to him. He scanned his gaze towards the nearby village cut into the forest as though it had always been there. If he had decided to enter it he'd have been noticed by nearly all the occupants. After all, they knew who he was – it was the Elfin Settlement he'd allowed and encouraged. The chances of him remaining in the village for much longer were limited. He wished for no one to be concerned, though his heart was pounding violently with the worry he held for his younger brother and fellow King.

He glanced over to the elfin girl who had retrieved the bucket and filled her own with the fresh water – only to drop the bucket back in to pull up another load. He resisted the urge to groan in frustration. How many buckets did she need? She only had one there to fill. He composed his haste – he knew not of her situation or her reasons. He need only wait patiently.

Fatigue claimed him under the unusually warm late autumn sun, shining in all brilliance upon him through the tunic and light armour he wore; he sighed and closed his weary eyes. He wondered if all the armour was really necessary. Without another thought he removed his riding gloves and tucked them away in a pouch on his belt. Suddenly he realised that his stallion was making an odd sound. He flashed his eyes open and saw the elfin girl kneeling by his steed's head, the bucket from the well on the ground between them. His stallion was greedily slurping at the water in the bucket like it hadn't drunken for many years.

Peter took this moment to steal a glance at the girl who aided him without a request. Long golden brown hair fell down from her head in gentle waves, tied half way by a piece of string – the tips nearly touching the ground from her knelt position. Several pieces of hair had fallen loose, shifting freely in the breeze. She dressed like any other peasant girl in an off-white dress with long puffed sleeves, a square cut neckline and a hem that touched her ankles – hiding most of her simple brown leather boots – with a brown leather vest tied with string up the front.

She was so fixated on his horse that she had not noticed that she was being observed, her fingers lightly petting the sides of the stallions face. Amused, Peter cleared his throat to gain her attention. Bright blue-green eyes turned to him, gazing up with a look of slight confusion as though she was wondering why she'd been interrupted. She had a small face, with soft features and a few freckles dotted across her nose. Her elfin ears seemed to perk slightly as she slowly stood to her feet. "Your horse looked thirsty." She stated, as though she had just been scolded for performing a favour.

Peter nearly snorted in laughter. "Well, yes. Thanks." He said, lightly scratching his right cheek with the opposite hand. "You needn't have done that though."

"The High King of Narnia need not do such strenuous work." She replied. "And besides, you look quite exhausted. If it isn't too bold for me to point out, Your Majesty." She hastily added.

Peter sighed. "No, you are right." He admitted. "If it is alright, may I draw some water from your well to fill my water pouch?"

"There is no need to ask, Your Majesty."

Peter smiled gratefully and refilled his leather water pouch with a fresh bucket of water. The elfin girl lingered nearby as though she was afraid to leave. He decided to just let her be; he wouldn't be there for much longer anyway. But then he realized that her presence was somewhat convenient – not only was she not gushing over him and grovelling at his grotty shoes, but she was a local. "Do you know of any stalls selling produce?" He asked, tying his water pouch to the saddle.

"Oh... I'm afraid that they are all closed now." She replied. A pause followed, the kind that left Peter wondering if she was going to continue. Her lips hung slightly ajar as though contemplating what she was going to say. "However, my Mother and I still have several produce that we didn't sell at this morning's markets. Most of it is still in the cart if you'd like to look at it." She offered.

Peter couldn't tell if she was being nice because he was her High King or if she'd had offered to any other person, but he was still grateful. "That would be wonderful."

"Come up to the house then, we haven't finished taking what we'd like for this week so it's still waiting there." She explained, picking up her bucket of water and holding it against one hip as she lead the way towards the small cottage home some meters away.

A whole abundance of vegetable products were perfectly placed in shallow wooden crates and lined up beside a crate of apples in the cart that had wheels on one side and stilts on the other. "Take as much as you wish, Your Majesty." She said. "I just need to get this water to my Mother and I'll be right back." She informed him, stepping through the front door of the cottage and out of sight.

Peter immediately favoured the apples, but as he reached for them there was a cry from inside the cottage that caused him to pause in alarm in time to see and older woman burst out of the door. She didn't stand much taller than him, staring at him like he was some kind of god.

The elfin girl skidded to a halt behind her, flushed and clearly embarrassed. "Mother..." She hissed.

"Eletta" The woman scolded, turning to the elfin girl. "You should have fetched me as soon as our King arrived!"

"I was at the well, Mother." Eletta stated.

"My King." The elfin woman greeted, whipping back around to face Peter. "What a blessing it is that you have come here to my humble store. If there is anything you favour, please take what you wish. Free of charge."

Peter smiled slightly. Eletta's Mother was completely different to her daughter – she had dark hair and hazel eyes that were filled with utter excitement. Her voice was shaking slightly with euphoria as she stood behind the cart and took the act of a charismatic stall owner. "Oh no. I insist that I pay for your services."

"No, my King. We wouldn't have this produce if you hadn't allowed us to settle in your Kingdom."

Peter wasn't sure how to persuade the woman to allow him to pay. He glanced towards Eletta, who had a hand placed over her face in sheer embarrassment. He decided to play along for the moment and perhaps find a way to sneak them some payment without their knowledge. He reached forwards and helped himself to several apples, all the while feeling the penetrating gaze of the elfin woman.

"Where was it that you were headed, Your Majesty?"

Peter looked to Eletta, relieved that she'd found a way to change the awkward subject of him taking food without paying. "I'm headed for the Western Woods."

"Oh?... Which route were you thinking of taking?" Eletta asked uncertainly.

"Across the Great River by the bridge." Peter replied. "Why?" He asked, catching onto her tone.

The two elves shared a glance before the Mother spoke. "That bridge collapsed last week."

"What?" But then how did Lucy and Edmund get through?

"In fact…" Eletta admitted thoughtfully. "When Queen Lucy and King Edmund came through here, I also helped them get through to the Western Woods."

This sparked hope in Peter's eyes. "So you know another path?"

"Sure, I can show you if you'd like." Eletta offered. "Just give me some moments to tack up my horse?"

"Of course." Peter nodded.

Eletta vanished into the cottage, her hair flying about behind her in her haste. Until she returned, Peter stood beside his horse in the awkward silence that settled between him and Eletta's Mother. Peter felt terrible that he couldn't feel at all comfortable around the older woman – it did not help matters that she still seemed to be hyperventilating at his very presence.

When Eletta returned she came from the field beside the cottage, leading a dark brown and white pinto Gypsy Vanner mare. She handed Peter a simple leather bag before she tied one much the same onto the saddle of her horse.

"What is it?" Peter asked uncertainly, not wanting to take anything else from the women.

"Grain for your horse." She replied, easily climbing onto the large stock horse despite her small figure. "Are you ready to go?"

Peter smiled, placing the bag into a pouch on his saddle. "Whenever you are." He replied after mounting his bay stallion.

Eletta turned towards her Mother who was still standing by the cart, looking worriedly towards her daughter. "Don't worry, Mother. I'll be home before nightfall." She reassured her, leading Peter towards the village. Once they were out of earshot, Eletta shook her head. "I'm still just a child to her." She muttered with a warm chuckle.

"You are her daughter." Peter reasoned, unsure if he was actually supposed to say anything.

"But I'm also seventeen." Eletta explained. "I can't stay close by her side for the rest of my life…"

"You're seventeen?" Peter asked in disbelief. He'd thought she was so much younger. Her height and small face – he could have mistaken her for someone younger than Lucy.

To his surprise, Eletta glowered in his direction. "I know I don't look it because I am an elf so therefore I'm small. But I was born seventeen years ago."

"Oh, sorry." He apologised with a sheepish little smile that usually got him out of trouble with his sisters – or Lucy at least.

A welcoming aura enveloped over Peter as he entered the Elfin Settlement, a playful music wafted to his ears as though inviting him in. In the village square, which he could see straight away due to the way the homes of the Settlement were spread out, there was a small band of elves. One plucked at the strings of a lute, another tapping a tambourine and another blowing into a small wooden flute. By the homes scattered about the village, women were kneeling by their gardens, talking amongst themselves – their infant children cradled close by their breast. Children scampered about the village, some finding time in their imagined adventures and sword fights using fallen tree sticks to glance over and wave to their King. The elves were dressed much better than when he'd last seen them – while they had been wearing clothes like rags before, they had since made new clothing.

Peter beamed in response, their joy and zest for life brimming inside of him. Pride pooled into his heart, knowing that it was because of him that these people were happy and living so freely. There were times when Peter questioned the decisions he made as King, but this was one of those times when he knew he'd done the right thing.

"I imagine that our Mayor would have loved to see you again, but he's off doing something interesting." Eletta suddenly explained.

"You don't know where he is?"

Eletta shrugged. "Not right now, no. Not even his wife is sure. She thinks that perhaps he is unwell so he's just gone to recuperate away from the rest of us."

Peter nodded. It was a plausible explanation that the mayor would not want to cause any others in their infant settlement to become ill.

They soon passed right through the settlement, coming to the forest on the opposite side where Peter could already see the damage to the bridge. He sighed, knowing that he'd have to arrange for its repair after he found Edmund. Eletta whistled shortly to catch his attention as she led her mare down a small and rather hidden forest path. The trees were closer than usual here, making him feel claustrophobic under the low canopy. Sunlight did not stream in as much here and it only made the chilly winter air all the more crisp, sending a sharp shiver down his spine.

A companionable silence settled, the sounds of their horses, birds tweeting and leaves crunching beneath them the only noises. It was as though the pair of them enjoyed silence now and again – there was no need to fill in those moments with words or conversation. Being led by someone was unusual to him, after being the High King and leading people was part of his job description, but he enjoyed the break.

He appraised Eletta from his place behind her. Her long hair swayed from side to side like the long plaited tail of her horse, the colour of her hair reminding him of really late in the autumn when the leaves were the palest of brown. Her skin was fair, though she seemed to spend a lot of time in the sun. And from that angle he could only just see her face and almost childlike features. He reminded himself that she was seventeen, only four years younger than himself. He cursed upon himself, looking away. He couldn't allow himself to become enchanted or distracted. Not ten minutes ago he'd looked upon her like a younger sister – given her physical appearance – but now when he looked at her she was an attractive young woman.

He wondered why he looked upon her so differently when all that had changed since they'd met was the knowledge of her age.

"How did you find this passage way?" Peter inquired, noticing that the trees were beginning to thin a little more and sunlight filtered through the canopy.

"By pure chance. And before the bridge collapsed." Eletta replied. "I wanted to explore a little more, but then I soon realised that the path I'd found followed the Great River northwards. I also discovered a place where it is safe to cross without a bridge."

"Well, thanks." Peter stated. "Really, thank you." He added when she gave him a slightly disbelieving look. "I'd have taken a much longer route if you hadn't shown me this."

Eletta shrugged. "You're my High King, Your Majesty."

"Yes, but you'd have done this for anybody, and I admire you all the more for that." Peter admitted and realised he'd said too much when Eletta turned her head away to hide the unmistakable blush.

"I just like to feel like I'm making a difference." Eletta explained.

Peter was about to speak again when the glint of something caught his eye. They had reached an area of the wood where the trees were almost standing alone, the ground still coated in rust coloured leaves. But slightly buried amongst the leaves was an object that flashed in silver from the light. In horror, Peter leaped from his stallion and ran for the object, kneeling to the ground as he pushed the leaves away and he felt his heart breaking. As though it were made of glass, Peter lifted the silver crown on his hands. "No…" He whispered, the only possible thought that made it to his lips from the complete mess that was jumbling in his head. "Edmund…"

Eletta stared at the crown in the King's hands, the situation dawning upon her instantly. She'd seen King Edmund wearing that crown only days ago. "Has…something happened to King Edmund?" She asked softly, her elfin ears pressing back against the sides of her head.

Peter offered her a smile, but it fell all too quickly. "I don't know." He replied.

Very slowly, from the autumn leaved trees nearby, a wind breezed towards them, carrying with it all kinds of coloured leaves and flower petals. Swirling up from the grown a Dryad created a female form, floating before them as though it were human. "High King Peter, I bring grave news from your sisters." She informed.

Peter glanced to Eletta and then back to the Dryad as he stood to his feet. The phrase sparking the memory of when Aslan had died.

From the corner of his eye he could see the White Witch's dilapidated castle. No one needed to tell him where his brother was – and no one was going to stop him from finding Edmund.


	5. Chapter Four

Full Summary:

High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise? His younger brother has gone missing and a cold hand of fear and worry close around his heart. His sisters are afraid for him, and there is nothing they can do until they find him, if they find him that is.

Guided by a curious elf girl, he finds clues that only leave more questions unanswered. He is even more mystified when he finds himself falling for her, yearning to grow closer to her.

But the High King might not be so distracted, if he knew what Dark Magic was at use, and the danger that was coming…

PeterxOC EdmundxOC

This is a story that is written as a collaboration with my friend, Jess :)

Chapter written by Jess.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Two jagged twin mountains crested the horizon, a sinister reminder of a past that would never be forgotten. He shuddered as a ghost of a memory flitted through his mind, lingering there for a moment, before he pushed it aside and focused on the present. It had been Lucy's idea to race him to the Beaver's dam once they had reached the Western Woods, and Edmund realised just how excited Lucy really was about Mr and Mrs Beavers newborn pups. _

_Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lucy, riding her Chestnut mare and her jaw set with a determined look on her face. Then he saw Lucy give him a cheeky grin and giggle to herself before she turned her mare off the path._

_After a fleeting moment of alarm, where Edmund actually slowed Philip, ready to turn around and pursue her, he saw a flash of Chestnut and Lucy's red dress through the trees. Then he realised. _

_She was cheating!_

_Quickly, he urged Philip onwards. He didn't know how short this shortcut was, but he didn't want to fall behind. He could hear her somewhere ahead of him on his left, the dry sticks and autumn foliage crunching under her steed's hooves. The air was a little fresher than usual that autumn day, and the chilly bite of winter was starting to sting._

_But the weather was the last thing on his mind, as Edmund saw a small hooded figure standing directly in front of him, right in the path of his hurtling horse. The figure was standing near a large tree that was coming up on his right, and he tried to make out the face from underneath the shadowed cowl in the dark hood. _

_He slowed Philip as they drew closer, suddenly extremely wary. There was something dangerously wrong with the figure. Perhaps it was because they were completely alone, or maybe it was the sudden silence that had taken hold of the woods. It was creepy, the way the figure stood stone-still, and seemed to have no intention of moving._

_Finally Edmund halted almost right in front of the hooded figure, waiting expectantly. He could hear Lucy riding off somewhere further up ahead. Instinctively, his hand dropped down to the hilt of his sword. He wasn't expecting to use it on this journey, but he always carried it. _

_Just in case. _

_Abruptly, the hooded figure jerked back the cowl of their hood and a cold hand clutched Edmund's heart as he stared into the Hag's black, soulless eyes glittering with hatred. His hand tightened around his sword and he started to draw it when a heavy weight knocked him from above and pushed him roughly off Philip._

_Philip reared and whinnied in distress and fright at the sudden heavy impact. A rope that was secured to the tree above from a branch below was looped around his neck and tightened. As the attacker was doing this, another unseen assailant grabbed Edmund from behind as he landed, pinning him to the damp earthy forest floor. _

_There was a brief scuffle and Edmund managed to break free of the firm hold of his attacker. Turning, he ducked under a wild closed-fisted punch aimed at his head and elbowed sharply at his foe. Now that he was on his feet, he could see them clearly, and was surprised. The first one who had assaulted him from above, was a Harpy – a creature who he was certain only came out at night. It was still struggling with Philip, trying to get him under control. The second one, who was rounding on him now, was a gargoyle._

_A look of confusion crossed his face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but he was struck viciously from behind. The Hag smiled, a sharp granite rock grasped in her hand, as their prey collapsed to the ground, unconscious._

. : . : . : .

Edmund sat quietly in his cell, his ankles clad in cold iron, and overwhelmed by an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. It looked very different without all the ice, but his cell was still a cold and uninviting place. He drew his knees up, keeping him slightly warmer. There was precious little heat in the cell, with the cold that kept streaming in from the tiny barred window high on the smooth rock wall, and his breath came out in small cloud puffs.

He had spent endless hours trying to see if he could somehow break free. He had tried everything, from smashing the cuffs on the stone floor – although that only bruised him – to seeing if he could slip his foot out the small circular hole that held him there. All his efforts were in vain. It seemed that all the links in his chains were strong and rust-free, and bolted securely into the ground – and there was no possible way that they were going to break.

To add to his discomfort, an occasional low grumble would emit from his empty stomach, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast with Lucy the previous day. Also, his throat was still painfully dry, he hadn't had a drink since before the incident either.

Doing his best to ignore the stab of hunger in his stomach, he rested his head on his knees. It was hard to tell how much time had passed. He hoped that Lucy was safe. Where they going after everyone in his family? He was a little relieved that he hadn't seen her yet, but also a little worried. What if they had killed her? His gut twisted at that horrible thought. He wondered what happened back in their world, if they died in this one…

He heard the solid metal door rattle harshly as it was unlocked, before the door opened and an Ogre stepped down the solid cold steps. In his thick stumpy fingers he clutched a metal tray with a small piece of bread and a small cup full of water, most of which had been spilled and was rolling around on the tray.

He grunted in annoyance and dropped the tray in front of Edmund, the small amount of remaining water sloshing threateningly close to the edge of the cup as it teetered precariously – only to be rescued by Edmund and he drank it gratefully. His dark eyes peered over the rim of the cup to find the Ogre watching him impatiently.

The little amount of liquid in the cup had vanished far too soon, his throat was still dry, but at least it wasn't unbearably so. As soon as he had put the cup down and picked up the small bread bun, the Ogre snatched the tray right from under him and marched begrudgingly to the door, slamming it shut. There was a slight jangle of keys as they clinked together and he heard the Ogre's footsteps recede down the corridor until he was once again left in complete silence.

Edmund shifted into a more comfortable position – at least as comfortable as one could get on the cold floor – and took a huge bite of the bun. Suddenly he spat it out as a foul taste invaded his mouth. Coughing and spluttering he threw the rest of the bun at the wall, where it bounced harmlessly onto the floor.

So much for food.

He leaned back against the wall, goose bumps rising on the surface of his skin in the chilly air, and tried to get some sleep.

. : . : . : .

Queen Susan stretched and yawned from her desk in the library. The candle wick had burned low and she had spent far too long shifting through endless amounts of documents. What she was searching for, she knew not, but she felt as though there was something blindingly obvious that she was missing about this situation.

Deciding to leave it until morning, she rose quietly from her desk. Taking the flickering candle with her, she left the room, walking quietly down the corridor. Her soft tread was barely audible and she stifled yet another yawn as she neared her younger sister's room, least she woke her.

It seemed however, that Susan needn't worry about that, for as she drew closer and closer, she heard muffled sobbing coming from Lucy's room.

Susan hesitated, and pressed her ear against the door, just in case she was hearing things. But the crying continued. Overcome by concern, Susan knocked gently on the door before opening it.

"Lu?"

Susan's voice seemed to have stirred Lucy's raw emotion, and her choked sobs intensified. Susan sighed, understanding how her sister felt. Lucy's room was huge, ornately decorated with many interesting things she had collected during the past few years, including some hand-made toys that were gifts and even her handkerchief, which was clutched in her hands. And with her anguished cries, as she lay there, curled up on her bed in her nightdress, she looked so vulnerable and alone.

As Susan sat down beside her, she set the candle down on the side table, and pulled her sister into an embrace. Lucy meekly looked up at her older sister, her lips parted in agony as she tried to contain her sorrow.

"I'm scared," Lucy told Susan as she cried, an invisible burden carrying through her voice. Susan knew that Lucy was blaming herself for what had happened; she could see it in her tearful eyes.

"Me too," Susan admitted. She stayed with her younger sister for a long while as she cried, stroking her hair softly and holding her close. Eventually Lucy quietened down, her sobs fading to whimpers.

"What happens if we don't find him?" Lucy asked, her voice thick with emotion, and she tilted her head so she could look up at Susan. Unsure how to answer that, Susan hesitated, before she replied.

"I guess we'll just work that out when the time comes."

. : . : . : .

Many days had passed, the exact number, was unknown to him. Boredom had consumed Edmund to a tantalisingly agonising level. He usually passed the time by thinking about what his siblings would be doing right now. Did they know where he was? How was he going to get out? But most of the time he was wondering what they were doing now. Another uncomfortable thought haunted his mind, the meaning the Werewolf meant by referring to him as an 'offering'. He had no doubt that it involved his death - and his mind had conjured many possible ways they would dispatch of him, neither pleasant nor painless.

He even had submitted to counting all the slabs of stone in his entire cell.

In addition to his boredom and supreme discomfort, sometimes a couple of days would pass before he would next get fed. Unfortunately, his meals were never quite sufficient, nor were they good for him. He tried not to eat the mouldy bread, but sometimes he was so hungry he couldn't care less.

Being surrounded by the lake, and positioned down in the dungeon, it was unbearably cold. Winter nights were making themselves more and more known, the temperature always plummeting to icy levels. He often didn't sleep at night because he spent most of that time shivering and coughing as he breathed in the dry freezing air.

By now he had lost track of time, he was curled up trying to keep warm. Occasionally he would break into violent coughing fits that shook his entire body. He hated this feeling, that everything was out of his control and there was nothing he could do about it. It was a feeling of helplessness.

Suddenly the door burst open, and he quickly sat up, refusing to show any sign of weakness in front of his captors. To his surprise, a couple of the guards came in, one with a set of keys to his ankle cuffs.

While the one with the keys unlocked his cuffs, another gripped his arm firmly, extinguishing any hopes of escape – not that he would have had much of a chance with seven other guards all alert and watching him like a hawk.

They led him roughly up the steps and down a long dank corridor. Then they dragged him up countless flights of stairs. He watched them carefully, as they led him on, looking for any sign of weakness when he could make a break for it. And then he saw it.

As they neared an intersection of the narrow corridors, he could see the main large cavernous throne room ahead, he made his move. Jerking his arm so that it slipped out of the Ogre's grasp, he darted nimbly down the hall on his right, a rush of adrenalin coursing recklessly through him. There was a loud roar of outrage and he could hear the thunderous pace of his body guards as they followed him.

He kept turning down different paths, trying to lose his pursuers. Thankfully the castle was poorly lit, and as he lost sight of them, he hid behind one of the tall pillars, trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible. He was surprised with himself, he usually wasn't so out of breath at such a short chase, and yet he found himself trembling and feeling vulnerably weak.

Edmund stayed concealed in the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest, as one small group of Ogres rumbled past. He waited until he couldn't hear them anymore before he ventured cautiously to the window, the wind blowing his hair from his forehead and for the first time, he breathed in fresh air. Though it was not like there wasn't air inside. Looking out, he could see the midday sun brightly reflecting the smooth lake's surface.

He peered down the side, a sense of vertigo overcoming him and he leaned back. From his brief glimpse of below, he saw sharp jagged rocks surrounding the base of the castle, before it became submerged in the murky depths of the still lake.

He heard the sound of something moving nearby, and he quickly backed away from the window and ducked behind another tall column. He waited a few tense moments, then, once he was certain that there was nothing there, he returned to the window.

A flash of something from the Western Woods near the edge of the lake caught his eye. He was sure that it was right where he had broken out of the bag, but in the daylight, he couldn't be entirely positive. In the distance, he could make out two figures, standing beside two horses.

Hoisting a leg out the window, he clambered onto the window sill. He could see a small ledge that lined the tower. Perhaps he would be able to manoeuvre his way around the side and find a safe way down from the outside.

His eyes darted back to the two figured on the shore, one was much shorter than the other, but it was hard to make out who they were. If they stayed there a little longer, he would be able to seek their help, and then he would hurry back to Cair Paravel.

Suddenly a hand from behind grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, wrenching it up maliciously. A cry of pain and surprise escaped his dry cracked lips and he stood transfixed, unable to move without deepening the pain that was shooting up his left arm and shoulder.

"And just where do you think you're going?" a shrill voice screeched into his ear.

And just like that, his desperate hope for escape was once again taken from him.


End file.
